


the a to z of victor nikiforov

by herillusion



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character Study, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 19:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11020284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herillusion/pseuds/herillusion
Summary: Perhaps in another world he could have been a model, posing in magazines that people would gush over, the same way people exclaimed at his routines. He liked to think that somehow he and Yuuri would have found a way to meet in that world too, that there were versions of him and Yuuri that had managed to find their way to each other in other worlds, even if neither of them had ever gotten involved in figure skating.





	the a to z of victor nikiforov

_**A** ir;_

 

Skating made him feel lighter than air. Or in some ways, it was like air to him – he couldn't imagine living without it. It made him invincible, let him lose himself in a different world, if only for brief interludes. He had loved it, every moment of it – of the hard work that left his feet bruised and aching, the falls when he would try to master a new jump, the constant practice whenever he came up with a new routine. But as time passed, it grew into something else. That relentless pressure from everyone around him to keep up his winning streak, having to try to surprise an audience which had come to see his winning as something expected, now. The silent resentment from his fellow skaters, who would shake his hand at banquets and compliment his routines, but hated him for it, knowing that their chances at taking gold when he was around were pretty much zero. Now – Yuuri was like air to him as well. Yurio sneered at his sappiness consistently, but he would declare his love all day and night to Yuuri, if he'd wanted to hear it.

 

_**B** irthday;_

 

He had never really enjoyed his birthday. What was it, after all, aside from another milestone passed? Just a countdown that it was one year less he had to skate, that time was catching up to his body, whether he liked it or not. Figure skating was a short lived sport, after all. Each one of them could only last as long as their bodies held up. It had also been a painful reminder of how little his parents cared about him, when all he received was a text or a brief call, sometimes not even that. In the earlier years when he had still been living with them, he had gotten gifts out of obligation more than anything. Insincere presents that rarely ever reflected his interests. Yuuri, however, had changed his thoughts on it. It had been the best birthday he'd ever had – he savored every mouthful of the clumsy attempt to make borscht, declared he'd keep the pouch that looked like Makkachin with him at all times, and kissed Yuuri deeply under the stars. A romantic cliche, perhaps, but he'd loved Yuuri for it, for the effort he had put in to make the day as special for Victor as he could.

 

_**C** all;_

 

He had never really liked talking to people on the phone. In fact, he often chose to deliberately let the calls go to voicemail, something that had frustrated Yakov to no end. He claimed it was part of his mission to get the old man more used to technology, and if it had actually been his aim, it wasn't altogether successful, since Yakov took to getting his rinkmates to spam message him instead. But Yuuri, as always, changed everything. Now, whenever they skated in different competitions, Victor would FaceTime him, and Yuuri would pick up everytime, regardless how much he protested that it was embarrassing. He never thought he would miss the sound of someone's voice like that. Even if the photo quality was terrible, he still scanned every inch of that dearly beloved face as he hummed in response to Yuuri talking about his day. Yuuri's voice was a comfort, a low murmur that soothed him, no matter the distance between them.

 

_**D** istance;_

 

Victor had always kept a distance from the world. He'd had years of practice, of flashing that wide grin in response when asked if he was alright, even if inside he was screaming, hurt or in pain. But he'd learnt better than to wear his emotions openly, and no one seemed to notice anymore, that what he showed the world was rarely what he actually felt. Or maybe they noticed and didn't care, not when this version of him was so much easier to deal with. A talented diva full of charm and not much else. But Yuuri had refused to accept that from him, even though he had been looking up to Victor for years. Had pressed Victor further, unwilling to take his smiles at face value, to pretend his idol was who he had always expected him to be, flawless and up on a pedestal. Yuuri had managed to close that distance Victor had created to protect himself, who Victor had let close, moved by that earnestness and persistence.

 

_**E** xtraordinary;_

 

It was a word that had been used a lot to describe him, often, his skating. But of course, he would accept nothing less than perfection from himself. What else was the point, after all, at throwing himself so wholeheartedly into this sport, if he had nothing to show for it after all his effort? And in Yuri Plietsky, he saw himself. Yuri, who was full of ambition and a drive to do better, not to mention that raw potential. He also had dubious taste in fashion and a tendency to hurl insults, which was in a way the complete opposite of Victor and his honeyed words, but he was aggressive enough to go after what he wanted, regardless of whatever anyone else might think. He was the only one who had bothered to track down where Victor had gone, courtesy of his Instagram post, and had actually flew all the way to Japan to insist Victor keep his promise. Now, extraordinary was used to describe Yuri, the prodigy people expected would follow in Victor's footsteps. And Yuuri, who with Victor as his coach, had taken the world by storm, and was special to him in so many more ways than that

 

_**F** riendship;_

 

Despite his popularity, he hadn't actually had much friends. He told himself he didn't care, he hadn't started skating to make friends, after all. But he saw the camaraderie amongst others, at them supporting each other even if they were competing for a better place on the podium, and couldn't help but wish he had something like that too. Yuri was a little like the brother he never had. But their relationship was far from equal, with the large age gap between them bringing out whatever caretaking tendencies he did have. Not that Victor was exactly the best person to be taking care of anyone. He did fine with Makkachin, but humans had different needs than animals, for sure. Possibly Chris was the closest friend he did have. But Chris couldn't have done anything to bring him out of his slump, once he'd fallen into it. He didn't want to think about what could have happened, if he'd never seen that video of Yuuri skating his routine, that had started up that spark of interest in him again.

 

_**G** orgeous;_

 

Yet another adjective that had been used to describe him, for as long as he could remember. He had been asked to promote various items, suits, cologne, cufflinks and so on. Perhaps in another world he could have been a model, posing in magazines that people would gush over, the same way people exclaimed at his routines. He liked to think that somehow he and Yuuri would have found a way to meet in that world too, that there were versions of him and Yuuri that had managed to find their way to each other in other worlds, even if neither of them had ever gotten involved in figure skating. Mostly, it was also an adjective he loved to describe Yuuri with. It was delightful to watch, his blush when Victor lavished compliments on him the same way he lavished kisses on every inch of his skin he could reach, when they had the time to spare.

 

_**H** ands;_

 

Or more specifically, Yuuri's and Victor holding it. He loved being near Yuuri in any form that consisted of – arms around him from behind, nuzzling his nose into his neck and often getting an indignant shriek from Yuuri as a result because of the cold, lying on the couch with his head in Yuuri's lap or sometimes the other way round, cuddling in bed, with blankets over them and their legs tangled together. But he had to admit he was always partial to the sight of Yuuri's hand in his, their fingers twined tightly together, with their rings reflecting the light when he was restless and flipped their hands over, playing with Yuuri's fingers with his other hand.

 

_**I** nstagram;_

 

Victor's favourite social media. Possibly Yurio's too, although he thought that was more likely to be Snapchat, with all the filters it had. He had managed to convince Yuuri to create an account, which he barely ever used for anything aside from liking photos, but at least it gave him the chance to tag Yuuri in the countless photos of them he posted together, of which Yuuri liked every single one. He had also discovered Phitchit's Instagram had photos of Yuuri from back when they were training in Detriot, and had taken to saving each one he saw gleefully. No such thing as too much of Yuuri, he would say fondly, as he snapped another photo of Yuuri in the middle of eating his bowl of katsudon, and Yuuri mostly just rolled his eyes but let him get away with it. Memories were important, after all, and even Yuuri couldn't complain about the pictures of them taken when they were skating together. Besides, he knew Victor wouldn't post anything too scandalous – he did know what boundaries were, and some things he would rather save for himself instead of sharing with the world.

 

_**J** ealousy;_

 

Victor hadn't really thought about whether he was someone who would get jealous easily. After all, for most of his life, he hadn't really had someone who would inspire that sort of emotion in him. Any dating he had done had been casual, if it could even be considered dating when he had kept everything under wraps. He wasn't about to just come out for someone he didn't care about that much, even if the way he swung was an unspoken secret amongst his rinkmates. They had seemed fine with it, for the most part, but his home country didn't exactly take a friendly view over homosexuality. He might have been able to get away with it, with his reputation and the amount of honor he had brought to the country, but he hadn't wanted to deal with the discrimination. Yuuri, however, he wanted to show off, parade him around on his arm for everyone to see. And it was the most conflicting impulse too, when other times he just wanted to hold him close, to leave hickeys on his neck and glare off any strangers who even looked vaguely interested because Yuuri was _his_.

 

_**K** isses;_

 

After the dramatic way their first kiss had gone down, Victor had a thought that if people made scrapbooks as a way to document memories, that their first kiss was definitely worthy of being put into one. They had definitely had too many kisses by now to make any sort of record over them, though, especially when Victor had forgotten the specific details of some of them. But it was nice in a way, knowing he didn't have to memorize each moment so he could look back nostalgically when it was over. No, he could appreciate each one as they gradually blurred together into a lifetime's worth of them, of many different types over various occasions. If Victor had to choose, his favourite would be the tender ones they shared just after waking up, sleepy and with neither of them caring about morning breath. He had been careful how fast he took things, aside from kissing – Yuuri wasn't exactly experienced, and could be a little skittish. Besides, he knew a little something about the importance of consent from personal experience, and he would rather err on the side of caution and check in with Yuuri before pushing things further than he was comfortable with.

 

_**L** ove;_

 

Love was a concept that had been debated over by countless people for years, without any true conclusion. Victor doubted his opinion would count for much, in the face of that. But deep inside, he wondered if without Yuuri, he would have ever known love. True love, not the kind that so many fans professed to feel for him, that was based more on his skating or his looks than anything else. He wondered if he would have gone the rest of his life an empty shell, and not had anyone who knew him, inside and out, and chose to stay by him anyway. He knew it wasn't easy, being with him. But love, for anything else it might be, was a commitment, a promise they had made to be with each other, no matter what hardships they faced or arguments they had. It was so much more than a signed piece of paper declaring that they were bound to each other. But he wanted that too, anyway, wanted the security of knowing they were bound to each other, the ceremony of saying the traditional words to the man he loved.

 

_**M** akkachin;_

 

His faithful, loyal companion, who had given him the unconditional love he had needed when he had no one else. They had so many happy memories together, and Victor had never regretted it, that impulsive choice when he had walked past the pound, saw the ball of brown fur and adopted him. He would have collapsed in on himself if he hadn't had Yuuri, when Makkachin had died. At least he had the comfort of knowing Makkachin had had a happy life, and had the chance to spend his last hours with him, stroking that soft fur that gradually became wetter with Victor's tears, Yuuri at his side with his hand clutched tightly, to reassure himself Yuuri wasn't going anywhere.

 

_**N** ight; _

 

His favourite time of the day. When he could hide in the cover of darkness, as long as he wore a beanie or a hat of some sort that covered his hair, since the light glinting off silver hair would no doubt give him away. It was a time where he didn't have to squint into the light or wear sunglasses that made him look like a pretentious asshole. Also ideal for taking a stroll with Makkachin in cooler temperatures, though he also had to keep a tighter hold on her leash, since her coat wasn't exactly noticeable in dim light. Sometimes he went for jogs, since he'd rather go for late night jogs than early morning ones, at least. And now occasionally Yuuri would join him, making it a competition to see who was faster or taking it in turns to hold Makkachin's leash while the other ran ahead. It let them get the best of both worlds – exercise and companionship. The quiet was soothing too, when it was broken by nothing aside from the sound of cars outside the window. He had loved it and hated it, because that silence when he was alone in his apartment was grating, a reminder of his isolation. But there was always Yuuri now, the sound of his breathing when they were lying in bed, sometimes mumbling in his sleep.

 

_**O** w; _

 

Victor liked to think he had a pretty high pain tolerance. He figured most athletes would, since after all, they all had to suffer a little for the sport they chose to specialise in. Nevertheless, it was still nice, to feel cared for, when Yuuri would offer to rub ointment on his bruises or they would give each other foot rubs after long, exhausting practices. Some nights he slept at the wrong angle on the pillows and would wake up with his neck aching, but Yuuri's talented fingers would soothe it away, somehow knowing the right spots to massage. It was pleasant, for someone who had been used to having to be self-sufficient for such a long time.

 

_**P** eople;_

 

Mostly he analyzed people, saw what they wanted and gave it to them. But for Yuuri he asked, because he couldn't figure it out. Sometimes being straightforward about things worked, and Yuuri was endlessly contradictory, more complicated than he claimed and so much more than he thought he was. If Yuuri was a puzzle, he was one that Victor would never tire of trying to solve, would happily spend the rest of his life doing it. Every time he thought he had a grasp on him, could guess at what Yuuri would do next, Yuuri would surprise him. He hoped he surprised Yuuri the same way, that their relationship would never be predictable or boring. Though he thought he could live with that too, could happily spend the rest of his life in domestic bliss, as long as Yuuri was by his side.

 

_**Q** uestion;_

 

He had dealt with many questions, throughout his career. He knew some of his rinkmates envied how easily he dealt with the press. The reporters themselves were probably just as amazed, at how he never tripped up and answered their endless questions so smoothly, though they were probably less pleased when after all, scandals sold better. The public was hungry for any scrap of them they got, any soundbites or quotes they could exclaim over or any mistakes they could hold up to the light and go, look, here is evidence he isn't perfect, after all. Adoring fans were often a double-edged sword, for their whims could turn at the drop of a hat. Any sign of weakness and they would pounce on it, point at it as a reason they chose to support another competitor. But his favourite kind of questions were the mundane ones exchanged with Yuuri, asking each other what they should do on their days off, whether to bother with going out at all or to just laze around on the couch watching movies, which restaurant to eat at after competitions or who should get the shower first.

 

_**R** oses;_

 

He had been associated with blue roses, back when he was still skating in the Junior championships. Blue roses had meant desire for the unattainable, and now that he had Yuuri, he would never need that symbolism again. During one of their anniversaries, he had gifted Yuuri with red roses, with them being the traditional flowers used in romance. But somehow he preferred other flowers – sunflowers, to represent the joy and brightness Yuuri had brought to his life, baby's breath, because each breath he had taken after knowing Yuuri had felt like a new start, something better than the life he'd known before. Last but not least, dandelions, even though he had been informed they were considered weeds. When he had seen this quote about them from a book, it had stuck in his mind, though he vehemently refused to tell Yuuri the context, insisting it was motivation for him to read more English books, considering the quote was from the end of the trilogy.

 

_**S** kating;_

 

He'd always had mixed feelings about skating. It wasn't quite like that, at the start. He had fallen in love with it, the first time he had stepped onto the ice, even if he hadn't realised it then. Had passed it off as the burning need to prove his parents wrong, as they shook their heads and rolled their eyes over his insistence, had characterized his defiance as teenage rebellion. Even now he couldn't say how much of that was what had driven him, as opposed to how he felt when he was skating. He knew that for all the resentment his fellow skaters may have had for him, many of the junior ones looked up to him, perhaps had even gone into skating because of him, inspired by the beauty of his routines. But Yuuri was the one he admired, the way he skated with the kind of emotion Victor had always had trouble expressing. And the exhibition skate they did together would always be his favourite routine of all time.

 

_**T** ruth; _

 

Victor wasn't a liar, mostly. He just used the truth selectively, when it suited him. He'd been putting up a show for so long he was no longer sure who he was, underneath it all. It was so much easier to mould himself into what people wanted him to be, how they expected him to act. He didn't know what kind of answer to give when Yuuri asked him to just be himself. But he appreciated it, in an odd way. It had been so long since he met someone who hadn't wanted one thing or another from him. Yuuri wanted him to stay. He could see that, at least, even if Yuuri had difficulty actually voicing the thought. But that much he could do. It was his choice to come here, after all. So why not stay?

 

_**U** mbrella **;** _

 

Victor rarely, if ever, remembered to bring one. Though he was lucky enough to not get caught in the rain much, despite that. Maybe part of that was because he was more frequently visiting countries that snowed instead of raining. In any case, when he stayed at the onsen, he would often get one pressed into his palm by Yuuri's mother when she felt it looked like rain. Somehow appropriately, it was blue. Like the frames of Yuuri's glasses, or his eyes. Or like his mood, when he was alone and missing Yuuri. He liked when he got to share the umbrella with Yuuri, though. They didn't fit very well under it, but he would rather squeeze close together and get parts of himself wet than have it alone and remain entirely dry.

 

_**V** ictory;_

 

There had been moments in his life when he stood on the podium, gold medal cold around his neck and cameras flashing around him, when he'd thought, is this all there is? Victory had rarely, if ever, felt sweet the way it seemed it was supposed to be. He was proud of his achievement, of course, he had worked for it. But it had felt meaningless, when he was alone in his apartment again, with only Makkachin on his lap, tail wagging as he ran his fingers absentmindedly through the soft fur, other hand using his phone. He had taken so much more joy in Yuuri's, even if he hadn't been the recipient of the medal, he knew he had contributed to it, that Yuuri would not be here without him. Maybe victory is only meaningful when you had someone to share it with.

 

_**W** orthy;_

 

For all the people who whispered about Yuuri not being worthy of him, he wanted to shout at them that it was the other way round. He doesn't think he deserves Yuuri. Not someone like him, who still struggled with being genuine most of the time. After all those years of putting on different masks, it was a hard habit to break, one he suspected he would never entirely be free of. But Yuuri had chosen him, so he would accept that choice and try to live up to it, to treat Yuuri the best that he could, because it was what he should have and so much more.

 

_**X** anax;_

 

The anxiety medicine Yuuri took. Victor, with Phitchit's help, had managed to get Yuuri to see a psychiatrist to get the prescription. He was often reluctant to use it, insisting he didn't need it or could cope without it. Sometimes Victor let it slide – it was his choice, after all, ultimately – and tried to calm him down the best he could. He'd learnt better than to try to give ultimatums, after how it had ended up the previous time. But when he could, he also reminded Yuuri that he wasn't weak, not for needing the pills to help quieten his nerves. That he was brave and strong, even if he didn't feel that way, for managing to skate through it all, the mess his head could get.

 

_**Y** akov; _

 

Yakov was possibly the closest he had to family, sad as that might seem. His parents were distant at best, disapproving at worst. He avoided thinking about them when he could, since it wasn't like they'd ever brought him anything but pain. He buried that need for approval deep down inside, told himself all he needed was to prove to himself that they were wrong, by winning, over and over. That they would regret it, and it didn't matter, whether he ever heard any sort of apology from them for it. But somehow it still hurt, when Yakov turned his back on him, and he was left to wonder if he was wrong, if his coach had never really cared about him at all. He owed Yuuri more than he could ever repay, for taking it all in stride, going along with his exuberance and putting up with his drunken antics, patiently bundling him into a taxi back to their hotel. His memories of the night were blurry, at best, but he remembered snapshots – his arms around Yuuri's neck, whining about the heat and trying to strip, Phitchit snapping photos and taking videos. What stood out was Yuuri, mostly, how he had tugged gently at Victor's arms but more in a show of protest than actually trying to remove them. That wordless comfort, of fingers running gently through his hair, when he had let his eyes slip shut. He wasn't sure how much Yuuri understood of his thoughts that day, but he appreciated it, how soothing it had been, to let himself enjoy the feeling of having someone at his back. Someone who wouldn't throw him aside, whether they approved of his behaviour or not.

 

_**Z** zz;_

 

Victor presumably slept just like an octopus, and he even had photographic proof of it, courtesy of Phitchit, where he was mildly surprised to see himself sprawled out over Yuuri. Who somehow remained unfazed, even though by all logic he should be suffocating or struggling to get away. He liked the thought though, that they gravitated toward each other at all times, even unconsciously. But Yuuri, being the unromantic soul he was, pointed out that was probably because it was human instinct to search for warmth and it was either let Victor cuddle him like a unusually lumpy bolster or have the covers snatched away from him every night. Yuuri wasn't wrong about him being like a human furnace, though – after being introduced to it in Japan, Victor happily described him as his personal kotatsu.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not actually sure this counts as a character study, but it's basically 26 things about Victor and his life and how Yuuri affected him, so. Some of the letters didn't wind up being actual words, but well.


End file.
